


The Boiler Room  (Complete)

by I_hate_the_snow



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Can you hear me, I have to clear, help me, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_the_snow/pseuds/I_hate_the_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick goes into the boiler room after Lori "dies."</p><p>Keep in mind....he's crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boiler Room  (Complete)

Lori's point of view;

I woke up, and my entire body was in agony. How long was I unconscious? I couldn't feel my stomach. It felt like it was on fire. I felt my right temple and felt the blood. I was just grazed. My boy didn't shoot me. I don't know if I should feel happy that I'm still here, or scared that he wasn't able to kill me. He's good at killing walkers, but not me. I had to get out of here. I was on a dirty floor, with my stomach open. It was like ringing the damn dinner bell. I moved slowly, but couldn't stand up. I started to drag myself away, my stomach in agony when it hit the floor. I dragged myself for a few feet, and needed to rest. I worked my way over to the wall, and sat against it. I was cold, but sweating. I wanted my husband. If he's still my husband. I'm not sure we can call each other man and wife anymore. Over the past seven months he ignored me. Maybe it would have been best if I died at the farm. Or in that car accident when I went looking for him when he was out for a run, one of the dozens of times he left when I needed him. I apologized countless times. I knew that my reaction was bad. I put the knife in his hands. Shane was dangerous, and everybody knew. It was good that he was gone. Wasn't it? I tried to yell for help, but my mouth was dry. No words came out. I wanted to go to sleep, and looked at the amount of blood...MY blood that was on the floor. I'm gonna die here. I thought of Carl, my sweet boy. I thought of my baby. I hear him? her? cry. At least I thought I did. I thought of Rick. The good time we had. "In good times and in bad." What good does that do now? This is hell. This is what I deserved. I tried to hold onto a failing marriage. I knew that his job called him away a lot. But when we found safety at the farm, he was always leaving. Just when I needed him, he was leaving. Shane wanted to start up our sexual relationship, but I couldn't. My husband was alive. He would give my hand a squeeze before he left, but rarely a kiss. I know that he was looking for Sophia, but he made supply runs when we didn't need anything, and I needed him. I need him now. The last physical contact we had was when he touched my shoulder after I gave Hershel CPR. He didn't even look at me. The last time we made eye contact in months...well, the first time we made eye contact was hours ago. Was it hours? I don't know. I just wanted to get out of here. I needed help. I heard the door open. Please God...don't be a walker. It was Rick, He was covered in blood. I tried to make a noise to get his attention. He bent down and looked at the blood pool. The pool of blood where I almost died giving birth. He picked up something and looked at it. I wasn't sure what it was. He turned his head and looked at me. I must have been an terrible sight. My stomach was distended, the baby was just removed, and it took a while to get back to normal. He came over to me. Finally...help was here. Rick looked sweaty and bloody. I loved him so much, and I needed him. I couldn't say anything, I was too weak. I raised my arm to try to reach him. He kicked my leg aside, and it hurt. I saw his gun. He was moving it closer to me, and forced it into my mouth. Baby...what are you doing? It's me! I'm still here! Rick please! I heard him yell, and the pain in the back of my head as the bullet tore through my skull.

Then nothing.

Rick's point of view;

I used my knife and axe to kill dozens of walkers. I finally got to the boiler room. I noticed Lori's clothes on the floor. Everything was wrong. My mind wasn't clear. This is where Lori died. I needed her. I was so angry. My wife was dead. I knew she was sorry. I couldn't get past it. I couldn't put the pieces back together. I promised myself that I would keep her safe. I failed her. Everything was wrong. My mind wasn't clear. This is not the way it should be. She was here somewhere, I knew it. I saw the pool of blood. I picked up the shell casing from Carl's bullet. This is where she died. I was so angry. Angry at myself for not being here for her. She needed me, and I wasn't here for her. She asked me for forgiveness over her reaction when I told her I killed Shane. Over the past seven months I ignored her. I wanted her to feel the pain of being emotionally rejected. I knew it was childish. It was wrong. I wanted to sleep in the same cell with her. Everything was wrong. My mind wasn't clear. I looked to my right and saw a blood trail. My God. She was dragged away. Then I saw..it...It was one of those damn things. The stomach was distended. After Lori delivered Carl I remember it took a while for her stomach to return to normal. This thing must have eaten her. It was at the end of the blood trail. I went over to it, and it raised it's hand to me. Everything was wrong. My mind wasn't clear. I hated this thing. I kicked its leg, and bend down to put my gun in its mouth. I yelled as I pulled the trigger. It was gone. I took out my knife and stabbed the thing in the belly. I tried to open it, but was scared to find Lori inside. Time passed, and I was sitting by one of the pipes. I heard the baby cry. The cry started to sound like an old telephone ringing. Everything was wrong. My mind wasn't clear. The telephone kept ringing. This wasn't right. Phones don't work at the end of the world. I walked over to the phone and picked it up.

Everything was wrong. My mind wasn't clear.


End file.
